Because Hogwarts Loved Us
by Leah The Mermaid
Summary: Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, alumni gather in the ruins of the Great Hall to grieve, remember, and...hope? It seems an anonymous donor has given a considerable sum to the reconstruction initiative of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And it isn't who anyone expects. Kinda AU. Hogwarts will always welcome you home, and I will always welcome reviews.


It was cold that morning, made colder even by the dead ruins that used to be home. Dead flowers were scattered everywhere, barely-there petals trembling in the breeze, and it looked like no one had come to lay new ones for quite a long time.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in the very spot they had gotten off the rowboats and begun their first year at Hogwarts. Seventeen years. Seventeen years, it had been, and those seventeen years had taken everything from Hogwarts. Wind snapped in the three's faces like a whip, making their eyes turn teary.

"We shouldn't be late," said Hermione at last.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, and Ron nodded.

The Great Hall still had something great about it. The magical roof was gone, half the walls were gone, but the tables and benches were still standing at perfect attention. A great congregation had already gathered there, Hogwarts alumni and their spouses, even children. There was a collective turn when Harry and his friends entered.

"This is weird, mate," whispered Ron. It was. Even in the cold, air, Harry could feel heat surging to his cheeks.

"You're not the one who has to make a speech."

"I have to back you up when your speech is bloody awful."

"Honestly," Hermione huffed. "If you had just practiced a bit more, then-"

The looks on Harry and Ron's faces cut her off. Besides, they had arrived at the podium, the one where Dumbledore had spoken to his students so many times. As Harry ascended the crumbling steps, and his friends sat down at the Gryffindor table, the words "nitwit, oddment, blubber, and tweak" ran through his head. He smiled at the ground so no one could see. When he looked up, all eyes were upon him.

"Right," said Harry, placing his hands on the podium with uncertainty. "Well, er, you all know why we're here today."

Crickets. He ignored it.

"And I think the first thing I should say, if I'm, er, qualified to do so, is-welcome back." It was painfully obvious that their surroundings were hardly welcoming. "I say that not on my behalf, but on the behalf of our school, our home, really. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. Professors, students. Muggle-born and Pureblood. Even those who never knew Hogwarts."

He shot a look to a few of the children in the audience. This part was going to be painful, but his throat did not close just yet.

"Seventeen years ago, a lot of you stood on these very grounds, watching the walls crumble. The day when one of the greatest wars in the history of wizardry was decided. If you're here, you survived. But many of us...many did not. Let's just take a moment of silence to remember them, because they were exactly who we were. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs. Professors, students. Muggle-born and Pureblood."

In the pause that followed, Harry glanced at his fellow witches and wizards. Many had tears in their eyes. Hermione was already sobbing softly into Ron's shoulder, while Ron had his head bowed. Harry would have given most anything to join them right about then, but his work was not done. He had one child at home, another on the way, and he was going to finish even if his voice crackled and tears broke loose for everyone to see.

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that I thought Hogwarts would always be here to welcome me home. And in a way, it always will. Someone once asked me, 'Do the dead we love ever truly leave us?'. No. No, I don't think they do. Each and every one of us will look back and be glad we knew the moving staircases and the astronomy tower and the quidditch pitch. Until...until the very end. It was here that we found ourselves, and belonging. We love Hogwarts because Hogwarts loved us."

"But it doesn't have to exist just in memories. Which is why I really wanted all of us to come here today. Not just to mourn, but also to hope."

A few solemn faces looked up at him, not quite daring to believe what he was insinuating.

Harry nodded. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has received an anonymous grant, a very generous one. If everything goes well, our children, grandchildren, their grandchildren, will see this hall as we saw it. They will be loved here as we were, even if they must learn on a cemetery.'

"I have a son, James, and I love him more than anything. I think at least a few of you can relate. His parents were both Hogwarts students, and from the moment he was born we wanted to give him everything good that had ever happened to us. This school has sent forth into the world the best and brightest for thousands of years. I know because the proof is sitting before me. You are no longer just witches and wizards. You are politicians, professors, architects, aurors, inventors. You are exactly what Hogwarts needs."

"Great speech, Harry, really."

Harry turned to see none other than Neville Longbottom. Of all the aged alumni he had been mingling with in the great hall, Neville might have been the least recognizable. He was tall and lean, with smooth confidence and an effortless scruff of beard. Quite frankly, he looked like someone who ought to be on the cover of _Witch Weekly._

"Neville-mate-how are you?" he said, embracing his old friend. "Hey, Ron, Hermione!"

They both greeted him with equal enthusiasm, Hermione turning slightly pink.

Harry didn't hesitate to exploit this. "Hermione, you remember Neville, of course? The gent you didn't go to the Yule Ball with? The one you magically paralyzed in first year? Yeah, well, you lot catch up, I've got someone else I've got to talk to."

He left them all three equally embarrassed, weaving through the crowd until he spotted the familiar white-blonde head he was looking for. It turned to face him.

If Draco Malfoy had looked a bit stressed the last time they'd seen each other, he was downright ramshackle now, though he ignored it well. His hair had a few flecks of grey already at twenty-seven, steely as his eyes. Even worn down, he was unwavering in the distain he gave Harry.

"Potter," he said.

"Malfoy," acknowledged Harry, nodding. "I was sorry to hear about your parents."

In another time, Malfoy would rather have bitten off his own tongue than say thank you, but he muttered it anyway.

"No," Harry said. "Thank _you._ I know you didn't want me to tell anyone, but-"

"Then _don't,_ Potter. I hope I didn't leave my parents' fortune in the hands of someone incapable of following simple instructions."

"I understand. I won't let anyone, er-ferret it out."

But there was one thing he didn't understand, and he wasn't going to leave without asking.

"Why'd you do it?"

Malfoy turned away, looking like he wanted nothing better than to leave the conversation. He said quietly, "Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."


End file.
